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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28447707">Sir Leon The Long Suffering- Battle Weary</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingInATimeOf_Myths/pseuds/LivingInATimeOf_Myths'>LivingInATimeOf_Myths</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sir Leon the Long Suffering [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Deals with grief and death, He gets a hug and support, Hurt/Comfort, Leon deserves the world 2021, Protective Gwaine (Merlin), Protective Knights (Merlin), Protective Percival, Traumatised Leon, deals with PTSD, sad Leon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:08:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,918</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28447707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingInATimeOf_Myths/pseuds/LivingInATimeOf_Myths</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Leon stumbles back from a disastrous expedition where he loses most of his men-NO Major Character Death. He feels responsible for their deaths and is cared for by Gwaine and Percival. Deals with hyperarousal (in terms of reacting far too strongly to minor events) and what could be seen as PTSD, though they certainly wouldn't have had the terms for it back then-I read a book once that called something similar 'battle-weary.' </p><p>Basically, I wanted Leon to have support because he does way too much for too many people and eventually the cracks have to show. No one is immune to shock or sorrow, no matter how much of a medieval Chuck Norris they may indeed be.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sir Leon the Long Suffering [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064387</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sir Leon The Long Suffering- Battle Weary</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>PTSD, hyperarousal, etc. Do not read, please, if this may harm you. I recommend one of my other, much lighter pieces, or look for another piece of work from a fantastic author-there are so many in the community to choose from!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Leon nodded his thanks to the stableboy who took Gemmula from him-she was filthy and in need of a good rest and some hot mash. His fingers trembled on the reins even as he handed them over. He stroked back the blood-spattered and sticky forelock out of her eyes, earning a quiet whicker of thanks from his charger, who had performed beyond admirably in the past several days.</p><p> </p><p>Exhausted beyond all reason, Leon stood still for a moment as Gem was led away, muscles shaking and a fine tremor setting in. He looked around him dumbly at the few in his company who remained after what had been a brutal attack by a raiding party just beyond Camelot’s borders. </p><p> </p><p>His face itched along the side, so he lifted a hand to scratch at it idly, but when he pulled back his fingers, dried flakes of blood drifted down, fingernails stained red. It wasn’t his blood. Leon recoiled, feeling the burden and filth of a week of hard riding from what had felt like half an army hacking and slashing his men to bits. </p><p> </p><p>He swayed in place, but shook his head determinedly and turned to see what he could do before retiring to his chambers and trying to escape into slumber. Leon faltered midstep as he saw a massive stallion being led in through the front gates, a large bundle wrapped in white cloth tied to his back. The world went oddly silent, save for a high whine in his ears, as he watched the procession of what would become seven horses with similar burdens walking in, their hoofsteps echoing oddly. </p><p> </p><p>“-on?”</p><p> </p><p>A sound started to break through the way his world had gone fuzzy and grey, so Leon turned to look. </p><p> </p><p>Gwaine broke through the archway leading inside the castle in a dead run, relief clear as day on his face. He dodged several guards and a few horses carrying their grim burdens, stopping short when he came in front of Leon. </p><p> </p><p>Leon looked at him dully, eyes gone glassy and not quite there. Still, he could see the worry on Gwaine’s face, the need for comfort, so he opened his arms. Gwaine took two strides in and threw his arms around Leon’s neck, pulling him tight, nestling his face in the crook of the taller man’s shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>Leon wrapped his own arms around Gwaine gently, feeling a spark of warmth settle back in his chest, which had gone cold days before, somewhere around the time the newly-knighted Sir Allston’s head had been separated from his shoulders. Leon shuddered, for the first time feeling the strain where there had only been training and instinct to survive before. </p><p> </p><p>“Was so worried.” Gwaine murmured next to his ear.</p><p> </p><p> Belatedly, Leon remembered the amount of grime and blood soaking every inch of his skin, and tried to pull back, explaining, “Dirty-you’ll get dirty.”</p><p> </p><p>Gwaine snorted, the puff of air tickling Leon’s ear. He pulled Leon closer, soaking up the warmth that came with a friend returning alive. </p><p>“You came back. I don’t care about the mess.”</p><p> </p><p>He pulled back, though, and looked up at Leon’s face. His own hardened when he saw the blood and just how close the man was to a breaking point. Gwaine dropped his arms, but, perhaps sensing how much the warmth was immediately missed, took Leon’s hands in his own, tugging him towards the castle. </p><p> </p><p>“Come on then, you need a bath and rest. Do you need a healer?” </p><p> </p><p>Leon shook his head, the world greying out again at the sudden lack of physical stimulus, body going numb. His steps slowed until Gwaine was forced to stop, looking back. Gwaine’s heart dropped when he saw what was happening and, immediately, he stepped back into Leon’s personal space, pushing him gently onto a small stone bench on the wall near the archway. He crouched down in front of Leon and put his hands on Leon’s shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“Leon, look at me.” Gwaine shook Leon’s shoulders gently, some of the colours returning to the world with the warmth of his hands. Leon lifted his head wearily and met Gwaine’s eyes muddily, the man’s face blurring in and out of focus. </p><p> </p><p>Gwaine smiled at him tightly. “That’s right, good. I need you to do something for me, Leon.” </p><p> </p><p>Leon nodded numbly, feeling bitterly cold as he became more aware.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s my name?” Gwaine asked, tightening his hands on Leon’s shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>Leon squinted, thinking. “You-You’re Gwaine.”</p><p> </p><p>Gwaine’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “That’s right, that’s me. What about the names of the other’s in the King’s Company?”</p><p> </p><p>Leon closed his eyes. It was too much, too much thinking. His head slipped back and hit the stone behind it, forcing his eyes open and his heart to race, pulse pounding in his ears. </p><p> </p><p>His hands formed into fists quite against his will and he reached for his sword blindly, hissing when he found another hand there already. The world was suddenly clear and bright but intense, all the colours and sounds vivid and overwhelming. </p><p> </p><p>There was a strange man in front of him. He had his hand on Leon’s sword. </p><p> </p><p>Leon swung a fist at him, but the man dodged it, backing up a few steps and holding his hands away from his body in surrender. The man’s eyes were crinkled around the edges and Leon had the most irrational urge to wipe away the tension, soothe the stress he could see wrinkling the man’s brow. His eyes fell to the cloak wrapped around the strange man’s shoulders. Red. <em> Pendragon Red.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Everything came rushing back in an instant and Leon collapsed on the bench, head in hands, horrified with himself. </p><p> </p><p>“Gwaine,” he choked out, “I am-words cannot-” </p><p> </p><p>Everything felt cold and icy. He shivered, the world going distant again.</p><p> </p><p>“Leon,” the hands were back, and a warm body pressed up against his side, soothing some of the chill, “it’s ok, it’s ok.”</p><p> </p><p>Leon shook his head, mouth gone dry, swallowing desperately. It was his job to comfort, to protect, not the other way around. He had failed, just as he had failed Allston and Bromley and Wyman and Garrick...His throat seized as he thought of Garrick, who had once been his squire.</p><p> </p><p>Images flooded his mind of a young, brash boy with dark eyes and a crooked smile interspersed with how Leon last saw the man alive-pale, stretched out gruesomely on the ground, guts spilling out as he choked for a breath of air, hand reaching for his sword even as he took his last breath. Leon closed his eyes again. There had been too much death and so much blood was on his hands.</p><p> </p><p>He felt arms clasping around his shoulders, more than one pair. He looked up to see Percival towering over him, sitting next to him on the bench. Sandwiched between Gwaine and Percival, Leon felt <em> safe </em>for the first time in six days, heart rate slowing down from the jackrabbit pace to something more manageable. He felt something hot and wet carve its way down his cheek and lifted his hand to touch. It came back shining and Leon realised it was a tear. He didn’t recall beginning to cry, but now that it had started, he seemed unable to stop, shoulders shaking and back hunching with the force of his grief. </p><p> </p><p>The men perched on either side of him leaned in, enveloped him in their arms, and Leon shook his head. They didn’t understand.</p><p> </p><p>“It was my fault.” He coughed as the air in his lungs seemed to choke him. Gwaine rubbed his back firmly, kindly.</p><p> </p><p>“It wasn’t your fault.”</p><p> </p><p>Leon screwed his eyes shut. “I should have seen it coming.”</p><p> </p><p>Percival wet his handkerchief from his drinking skin and started wiping away some of the blood on Leon’s face. “No one could have seen it coming.”</p><p> </p><p>“I lost so many good men.” Leon confessed, voice hitching. “I didn’t protect them.”</p><p> </p><p>Gwaine and Percival exchanged a look over Leon’s shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>“You fought bravely,” Percival murmured gently, “as you always do. Those men felt confident in you, in themselves, in what we stand for. Their deaths don’t represent a failing on your part and I know for a fact Garrick would tell you the same.”</p><p> </p><p>Leon felt his chest seize up with the force of his grief. Gwaine pressed himself closer and added, “Every single one of us-all the knights in all of Camelot-have absolute faith in you, Leon.”</p><p> </p><p>“If I had-” Leon was cut off by Gwaine, who peeled off of Leon and turned to face him, face serious and hard.</p><p> </p><p>“Leon, you can think about all the ifs, ands, or buts until your face turns blue, but it isn’t going to change what’s happened.”</p><p> </p><p> Leon swallowed, a wave of overwhelming guilt threatening to overtake him, but Gwaine wasn’t finished. He picked up Leon’s hands and pressed them to his chest, letting the older man feel the steady beating of his heart.</p><p> </p><p>“More importantly,” Gwaine continued, face going soft, “it’s only going to torture you.”</p><p> </p><p>Leon looked up at Gwaine, eyes wracked with grief. “I couldn’t save them.”</p><p> </p><p>Gwaine nodded solemnly, hair bouncing up and down around his face. “I know. And that isn’t going to stop hurting, but <em> it wasn’t your fault. </em> You did everything you could, I know you did. You always do. <em> ” </em></p><p> </p><p>Percival hummed an agreement, handing Leon his waterskin and motioning for him to drink what was left. Leon brought it reluctantly to his mouth, hand trembling (though from exhaustion or fear, he was not sure), and drank. </p><p> </p><p>Gwaine made a noise to Percival, who looked up questioningly. Seeing the puzzled look, Gwaine huffed and pointed his free hand at the castle. Recognition washed over the big knight’s face and he nodded, standing up carefully. </p><p> </p><p>“Come on, Leon. Let’s get you home.” Percival tucked an arm under Leon’s, pulling him up, then slung it around his shoulders, pulling the shorter man in tightly. </p><p> </p><p>Gwaine fell in on Leon’s other side, the two blocking Leon’s sight of the bodies being laid out in the courtyard. He didn’t need to see it. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” Leon protested weakly, “you don’t have to-”</p><p>He was cut off by a <em> look </em> from Gwaine and a tightening of Percival’s arm around him. </p><p> </p><p>Gwaine smirked at him devilishly, some of the seriousness dropping away as he leaned in and murmured, “It’s either us or Gaius, Leon, your choice.”</p><p> </p><p>Percival laughed, the rumbling tickling Leon’s side. </p><p> </p><p>Leon’s chest cracked open with warmth and he managed a smile, the first in a long time.</p><p> </p><p> “I suppose you’ll do,” he said wetly, hoping the gratitude was clear in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>Gwaine smiled at him and Percival nodded his head seriously.</p><p> </p><p>“For once, let us take care of you.” Percival said calmly.</p><p> </p><p>So it wasn’t perfect. But it was hope and, hopefully, Leon thought, a way past the overwhelming grief to something better.</p><p> </p><p>He closed his eyes. <em> I’m sorry, </em> he thought to all the men he’d lost. <em> May the gods reunite us again.  </em></p><p>Leon opened his eyes, tuning back into Gwaine’s stream of chatter, feeling the weight and warmth of Percival’s arm around him. Maids and noblemen and children rushed around him, the heat and sounds of life everywhere. Death was an inescapable part of life, but the cycles of life and death were interconnected and complex, rich and beautiful as they were sad and mysterious. </p><p><br/><em> Thank you, </em> he thought suddenly. <em> Thank you for serving with me and thank you for following me. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Everyone needs support and to feel cared for, especially Leon. Not so light and fluffy as some of my other work, but I hope it was still enjoyable. Be well and safe. It is hard, right now, to feel loved, but it will shine through the dark clouds in time. Take care of yourselves. &lt;3</p><p>A very gracious reader pointed out that this poem is by no means Old English-thank you! It is merely old English, haha! :D </p><p> </p><p>'No Man is an Island'</p><p>No man is an island entire of itself; every man<br/>is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;<br/>if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe<br/>is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as<br/>well as any manner of thy friends or of thine<br/>own were; any man's death diminishes me,<br/>because I am involved in mankind.<br/>And therefore never send to know for whom<br/>the bell tolls; it tolls for thee. </p><p> </p><p>Olde English Version<br/>No man is an Iland, intire of itselfe; every man<br/>is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine;<br/>if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe<br/>is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as<br/>well as if a Manor of thy friends or of thine<br/>owne were; any mans death diminishes me,<br/>because I am involved in Mankinde;<br/>And therefore never send to know for whom<br/>the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.</p><p> </p><p>John Donne</p></blockquote></div></div>
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